Perfect Luna, Double Crowned

The scent of blood hit me before the wind shifted. Copper, silver, wet fur. Thick enough to burn my throat. I slid down the slope on half‑frozen mud, branches whipping my face, lungs dragging in air that tasted like storm and iron. Somewhere ahead, a wolf was howling—a broken sound, not a call for backup. It was a call for a healer. The trees opened into a churned‑up hollow. Snow was stamped brown and red. Stormclaw warriors lay scattered, some still moving, some too still. “Kaela!” Taryn’s voice snapped from my left. The patrol captain was braced over a young male, pressing both hands to his side. “Four breathing, two gone. Traps were silvered.” Of course they were. “Hold,” I said, dropping beside the nearest body. Tourniquet. Injection. Pack. My hands moved on instinct, dragging a warrior back from the edge. “Get him up there.” I jerked my chin at the slope. Taryn barked orders, but my gaze had already found the hulking shadow at the far edge of the hollow. Huge. Dark fur matted almost black with blood, one leg in a steel jaw that gleamed faintly. My heart stuttered. Rylan. Even half‑shifted, caught between man and wolf, there was no mistaking him. Stormclaw’s King Alpha lay on his side, chest heaving, breath frosting the air. The trap’s teeth bit into muscle slick with his blood. Silver had been threaded into the steel; it hissed where it touched him. I was running before I realized I’d moved. “Don’t shift,” I snapped, dropping to my knees. Full change would tear the leg off. “Stay exactly like this. You move, you lose it.” His eyes snapped open. Storm‑gray, wild—and then focused on me like a drowning man on air. “Kaela,” he rasped. His voice didn’t know yet if it was human or wolf. “You came.” “I always come,” I said, cutting fur and fabric away from the trap. My gloves sizzled where they brushed silver. “Try not to be so shocked next time.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Bossy.” “Bleeding out,” I corrected. “On three,” I told Taryn, who’d appeared at my shoulder. “Hands above the trap, crush that artery. Don’t stop until I say. One, two—now.” She bore down. Rylan snarled, body jerking. I jammed a strip of leather between his teeth and slammed my insulated tool against the locking bar. The trap snapped open with a wet crack and a gush of blood. Clamp. Powder. Stitch. Magic flared under my palms, hot and bright, knitting torn flesh enough to hold. “Breathe,” I ordered. “You’re shaking,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got three other wolves leaking everywhere and you picked a silver bear trap to cuddle,” I shot back. “Of course I’m shaking.” His laugh was more a shudder, but his pulse steadied. The angry hiss of silver dulled. “You’re not walking on that,” I said. “Shift fully when you’re home, not before. If you tear my stitching—” “I won’t,” he said. His fingers brushed my wrist, weak but stubborn. “If it keeps you here longer, I’ll crawl.” The bond between us flared, hot and aching. Mate. His scent—frost and pine and iron—curled around my ribs. Too close. Far away, under my skin, something else tugged. Another pack. Another Alpha. A second bond tightening like a wire. Moonfang. Caelan. Not now. “Get him on a litter,” I told Taryn, forcing my voice steady. “Slowly.” As I turned, Rylan’s hand caught mine. Even hurt, his grip was iron. “Stay,” he murmured. “Stormclaw needs its Luna tonight.” The word scraped along my spine. He meant it. My Luna. Another voice inside me whispered another name. “I have other calls to answer,” I said quietly, pulling free. His jaw tightened, but he nodded once. “Then come back.” Two packs pulled on the same thread of my heart as another distant howl split the trees. “I’ll try,” I said, and ran toward it.